The Other Skynet
by Zatcher
Summary: In a last ditch effort, Skynet has sent back a copy of its deadliest Terminator ever -- the T-1000. But this time, it has an entire army of T-8xxs behind it. Can Cameron protect John from the onslaught? John/Cameron Set before season 2 for now .
1. The Flash of Blue

A crash came from the kitchen, promptly followed by Derek's screaming voice, which meant to John only that Cameron had, again, pushed Derek over the edge with her staring, sending him straight into one of his usual "She can't be trusted" rants.

John returned his averted eyes from the half-open door to his room, to the computer screen before him. For a moment he toyed with the notion that he should perhaps go do damage control, but threw the idea out the window when he remembered Mom was home. And right on cue, there came Sarah's roar for quiet, Derek's less than polite retort, and Cameron's more-simple-than-not explanation for her offending action.

After a loud, short argument coming from the kitchen war zone (mostly composed of Derek's yelling), John heard footsteps approaching his door and he hastily navigated away from the secured information he had been under the act of hacking. His trust that Derek would not utter a word about it if he simply asked him to did not completely carry over to Cameron. In fact, in his mind, getting caught by Cameron was probably the second worst-case scenario.

As it was, the coming footsteps originated from both his mother and would-be Terminatrix bodyguard.

Cameron strolled through the room, pulling up a stool and sitting in front of the TV as Sarah leaned against the door-frame, arms crossed, looking fondly toward the young man she was proud to call "son".

"I hope you don't mind. Seems like this is the only place they don't cause trouble."

John made a dismissive wave with his hand, letting his mother know that he'd acknowledged her words, but remained otherwise silent, forcing his face into the most convincing angry-teenager look he could muster.

Unfortunately, it must not have been convincing enough, because Sarah asked, with a hint of suspicion to her voice, "What are you doing?"

Putting up the best casual front he could muster, he replied, "Just looking to see if we can get some cable in this house."

John had to admire his quick thinking. He knew his mother would not question his attraction to a luxury such as cable, though it held no personal interest for her.

And it worked; Sarah turned on her heel and disappeared into the house. "Not unless it's free," she yelled back.

"What were you really doing?" asked Cameron in that emotionless and direct way in which she always asked questions. She had done so so suddenly and in the middle of John's proud moment that he gave a start at the sound of her voice.

His moment of wit gone, he quickly (and lamely), replied,

"Nothing."

It wasn't exactly that it was more difficult to lie to Cameron than it was to his own mother, but at least when he lied to his only parent, he knew whether she was expecting the lie, or if it was safe to go through with it. With Cameron and her still-growing human imitations . . . it was just more of a hustle.

She continued to look at him in that unblinking way, and while he tried hard to stare her into believing him, he was forced to abandon the attempt when he blinked and involuntarily swallowed out of tension.

"Fine," he said, looking away. "I was hacking."

"You shouldn't be doing that. You could draw attention."

"Are you gonna tell my mom?" he asked rather snappishly, poking at the table with a capped pen.

Cameron remained silent for a moment or two, apparently thinking it over. "No," was her reply.

"Really?" asked John, rather taken aback. "How come?"

"I can tell by your tone you don't want me to. So I won't."

"What if I do it again?"

"You won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to."

A mean laugh became stuck at John's throat, preventing the escape of any words he had planned to say. He stared at her, feeling almost like a child after being scolded. She remained looking back at him with those eyes she always kept extra-open, giving him the sensation that she was X-raying him. God, why did she do that? Why did she say weird things around him? Why did she make strange comments? Why did she look at him like that?

She turned away and picked up the television remote, flipping through the channels with unshown interest, leaving John to figure out why he'd suddenly lost the ability to speak.

Feeling dazed, he grabbed the mouse and headed to the search bar --

_I've found you._

For a moment, he did not completely register the appearance of the small message-box in the middle of the screen. His finger remained poised over the left button, temporarily suspended in time. When he finally realized the meaning of the words, he reached for the power button -- he was damned if he'd be the one to lead a Terminator to them --

_You have to know._

Once again, he froze, knowing full well what a foolish thing it was to do. This could be Cromartie as far as he knew, and he was giving him the chance to track his position the longer he remained connected to him, the longer he didn't end it . . .

Going against all logic that pointed the other way, John positioned his hands above the keyboard. Nervously, he typed a message.

**Who are you?**

He waited anxiously for the reply, and seconds later he received it.

_Someone who wants to look out for you._

Before John could reply again, there was another message.

_She'll ruin everything. She can't be trusted._

For one wild moment, John pictured Derek on the other side of the line, sitting in the kitchen, making a desperate attempt to discredit Cameron; but that couldn't be it . . . He could plainly hear his mother speaking with him in the kitchen. She wasn't exactly fond of Cameron either, but surely she wouldn't go along with something like this?

**Why should I believe you?**

_Because I'm from the future. Bring Derek, he'll tell you. You yourself sent me back to stop you from making a mistake that's proved fatal. You _must_ get rid of Cameron._

Some small, faraway voice in John's mind was screaming furiously at the fact that he was even considering taking this conversation further. But another voice, the voice of doubt, screamed the opposite. A voice that sounded eerily like Derek's.

He looked at Cameron out of the corners of his eyes, not daring to turn his head for fear of drawing her attention. Oblivious to him and the mystery messenger, she simply continued her channel surfing, stopping to listen only to news programs, or fiction shows that it seemed she could not straightaway make sense out of.

Could she really be as dangerous as this stranger claimed? _Right . . . She's a machine, so she _must_ be evil,_ he thought with heavy sarcasm. She'd at least earned _that_ for all the times she'd saved him. Whoever it was on his computer, telling the truth or not, was, as far as he was concerned, as much of a potential threat as any killer Terminator was. But he trusted Cameron, just because . . . just because he did. Just as his future self obviously did. He'd never hesitate to tackle a Terminator himself if it meant saving her. Just like his mother and Derek had once witnessed and had forced him to remain helpless to do anything . . . Having to watch her be kicked to the ground and pounded on, over and over and over again . . .

His anger must have emanated in tangible waves, because Cameron suddenly turned her head to look at him.

"What's wrong?"

No emotion.

"You look upset. Do you need a hug?"

"Why would you think that?" he asked her.

"I don't know. It just feels like something I should do."

Her head gave a sudden twitch. Apparently, she also noticed her use of the words "I feel".

"What do you mean, you . . . "feel?" asked John, feeling a kind of exited tension rise from his stomach.

She shifted her eyes back to his and for a few moments the two remained that way. He saw a flash of blue in her eyes.

"I don't know why I said that," was her response. She sounded as monotone as ever, yet John was sure he sensed uncertainty in her words. Or did he only want to believe he did?

She stood up without a word and left. He heard Derek stop mid-sentence, and his mother ask, "Where are you going?" Cameron's simple reply was "Out." He heard the door open and close and knew she was gone. His mother said something about going to the store and then she was gone too.

Some half-a-minute later, Derek stepped into John's room and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him with a look a cop might have if he were trying to convince a deviant that they were friends.

"She may have saved your life a lot by now, but I still think it's a mistake keeping her around."

John had to prevent his eyes from rolling. "So I've heard."

"Your mom may not show it as bluntly as I do, but I know she doesn't trust her much either."

"What makes you say that?"

"Come on, John, I know you see it. The way she looks at her, the way she talks to her? And correct me if I'm wrong, but she _did_ go to the store this morning. She's obviously following her. And you know why you follow someone? Because you don't trust them."

John was digging at the table with the pen again. "Her decisions are hers. She has the right not to be questioned."

"Who are you talking about? Sarah -- or the robot?"

It should have been the implication in Derek's tone that made John angry, but he was more focused on his uncle's continued use of the word "robot" when referencing Cameron. _At least my mother calls her by name._

John stared at him intensely, hoping that, for just a moment, Derek could read his mind, so that he would know what he had to say -- would ever have to say -- about this tired old argument, and that he was in no mood ever to have it again. But he looked away, preferring to pretend he hadn't heard anything. Then, hoping to think of something to change the subject, he remembered the waiting stranger at his computer (for whom he now had a bigger resentment toward, not least because he voiced the same argument Derek did, and because it didn't change the subject at all).

He raced through thoughts of turning the computer off and never letting anyone know this happened, but before he reached a conclusion, the stranger sent another message and the tiny movement on the screen quickly drew Derek's attention.

"Who are you talking to?"

Unable to come up with a believable excuse in an inconspicuous amount of time, John grudgingly stood up from the chair and jerked his chin toward it. Derek took the signal and sat in front of the computer, quickly reading the small conversation so far, while John stared at the wall with forced fascination.

He heard Derek type something into the reply-box and only looked to see what it was out of curiosity. As far as he could tell, it was gibberish, but after the stranger replied with what also seemed like random keystrokes, it hit him that it must have been identification codes they just sent each other.

Derek leaned back slightly on the chair and cracked his fingers. "Must be getting desperate in the future if you sent Wilson back."

"Why, who's Wilson?" asked John.

"He's well known for being the man that's survived the longest in a work camp. Practically got captured the day after the bombs fell."

"Why is it strange that I might have sent him back?"

Derek turned his head for just a second to glance at his nephew, having not quite missed John's implied distrust by use of the word "might". But he turned around without calling him on it, knowing that hostilities between them were something they could do without.

"Just because he's not exactly a soldier," he answered. "I've only ever seen him cleaning wherever we happened to be at the time."

"Hmph," was all John said, as he took to pacing around the room while Derek and this "Wilson" had their conversation. He could only imagine the field day his uncle must be having with this. _As if Cameron's the only one who's ever lied. . . ._

Click, click, click, click . . . Eventually Derek's typing made him too frustrated to keep walking and instead stood by the window. A car or two went down the street occasionally; a crowd of kids rushed an ice cream truck; a homeless man made his way from house to house, digging through the garbage to see what thrown away treasures he might find. It wasn't until John heard the distinct sound of sirens in the distance that he really saw anything he was looking at. He glanced at the clock hanging on his bedroom wall. _Fifteen minutes . . ._ If all these two were doing was badmouthing Cameron, then enough was enough.

The sirens grew slightly louder, signaling that they were getting closer.

"What's he saying?" asked John, making sure the contempt was clear in his voice.

"Aside from complaining about the T-888 on his ass, looks like Skynet's been upping it's Terminator manufacturing. The Resistance are holding their own, but a lot of places have been overrun."

"I mean, what's he saying about Cameron? How does she fit into all that?"

"Hasn't said. He wants to meet in person to make sure only we get the information."

The sirens in the distance sounded even closer, with the distinct sound of a helicopter joining them.

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

"What does?"

"That he wants to meet in person? If he's got a Terminator following him, why would he risk giving our position away to it like that? For all he knows, that could be why it's after him."

"Well, we always have our own robot."

A fuse suddenly blew in John's head. "That's another thing -- how about calling her by her name for once?"

"Oh, you mean, 'Cameron'? I must've missed when they started making that model number."

"All I'm saying is, you wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her. You'd've been dead the day we busted you out of prison and you never even thanked her."

"_Thanked_ her?" Derek stood up so fast his chair toppled over. "For what? Graciously following her overwritten programming?"

"She SAVED you!"

"BECAUSE SHE WAS FORCED TO!"

The both of them clenched their fists and looked at each other with fury, the sirens outside growing ever louder.

"You think she cares, John, huh? You think it matters to her if any of us die? Well, here's a news flash, she _doesn't_."

The severity in their eyes might have burned a hole through the other if they hadn't been equal forces. All John cared about at that moment was defending Cameron. It didn't matter that this was his uncle he was fighting with; it didn't matter that had he been a bit more clear-headed, he would have realized everything Derek was saying was true; it didn't matter that Cameron herself often made it painfully clear that she _was_, in fact, just a machine; the only thing that mattered was how angry he was.

"She cares," he stated in a calm voice.

And before Derek could say anything in return, the sirens grew to their loudest, rapid footsteps sounded outside the room and Sarah burst through the entrance, clothes torn, a line of blood streaming from her bottom lip and a gun in her hand.

John looked at her condition in bewilderment, for a moment not quite able to say anything.

"What happened?" asked Derek, recovering more quickly.

When she didn't reply, John voiced the same question. "Mom -- what happened?" He looked behind her and, with a sudden escalating panic, realized who was missing. "Mom -- mom, where's Cameron?"

The sirens were suddenly all he heard.

_A/N: I promised myself I wouldn't upload this story until I had it completely finished, just because I didn't want it to join the ranks of other never-finished chapter fics. But as I wrote it and the plot unfolded itself in my mind's eye, I realized it was gonna be really long -- and if it's gonna take me forever to write, I should at least see if people will like the way I've written it. So here you have the first chapter, which took me 10 days to type up (with a ton of revising and editing in between). Any comments will be greatly appreciated. :) Anyway, hope you liked it so far!_


	2. The Freeway Chase

**A/N: I still don't think I'll ever finish this story. I wanted a basic, three-chapter plot, but it didn't seem to work out that way. I don't know when and if I'll update this again, but most of this chapter had been sitting in my computer since last year, so I thought I'd finish it and upload it. I've always wanted to do a big chase scene (especially after watching The Matrix Reloaded), though I may have gone a bit overboard. Anyway, tell me what you think.**

"Pack the essentials. We have to go." Sarah turned on her heel and disappeared into the living room as dozens of police cars were heard racing down the street outside. John ran up to her and grabbed her by the arm, making sure she looked directly at him before asking again,

"Where's Cameron?"

She pulled free and headed to the couch, which she kicked onto its back to retrieve the hidden weapons beneath it. "She's fine. She's holding it off to give us time to escape. Pass me that bag." She clicked her fingers when John didn't respond and he handed over the black leather item, looking at her with a look of confusion and growing panic.

"Holding what off?"

"A T-1000 -- damn thing almost ran us over before it crashed into a gasoline station." She dismantled an assault riffle to make it fit and promptly tied the bag closed, having left a shotgun and nine-millimeter outside, which she passed to Derek and John, respectively. She threw the bag over her shoulder, at the same time securing her handgun between her jeans and back. "Come on."

Before she took a second step, John grabbed her by the arm again, fixing her with a pleading look. "We have to go back for her."

"Forget it, we have to get you away from here." She tried to pull away from his grip, but he only held on tighter. "John, listen to me, that thing is after you and you want to go straight to it?"

"I 'want' to go for _Cameron_. That thing is gonna kill her, don't you remember the last one?"

"Yes, John, I do. She knows what that thing is capable of too and it's exactly why she's not here right now. To keep it away from you."

"She's right," pitched in Derek. "The sooner we get out of here, the sooner she's out of danger."

John looked daggers at him, but realized both their arguments were sane ones. The longer he kept them from leaving, the longer Cameron had to hold back the Terminator he was sure was beyond her ability to defeat. Even now, powerful as she was, she might be on the ground, the T-1000 hacking and slashing at her as she refuses to let it go . . .

He released his mother and walked toward the front door, turning back to look at them when he was halfway out. "Are you coming or what?" he said in a low, raspy voice.

Derek and Sarah looked at each other briefly, sharing the same thought of concern. When they looked back, John was gone and they had no choice but to go after. Once outside, they crossed the street and, using the sirens as a distraction, broke into and hot-wired their neighbor's pickup truck. John beat Derek to the passenger's seat, forcing him to ride in the back. They pulled out just as the truck's owner realized what was happening, but by the time he called anyone's attention, they were already well away.

Once the sound of the sirens could barely be heard, John reached for his cellphone and began to dial.

"What are you doing?" asked his mother, trying to glance at him but keeping her eyes on the road.

"Calling Cameron to tell her to get the hell away from that thing." He put the phone to his ear and barely heard it ring before Sarah snatched it away, shutting it closed.

"And how would you know that it's her? What happens if _it_ answers?"

"Then it better hope I don't find it first, because if it's done anything to her --"

"-- you'll do what?" she cut across him. "Just what do you expect to accomplish if that happens, hmm?"

He looked away from her, the anger of running away coursing heavily through his veins. Just what the hell was he supposed to do? They wouldn't let him go, and they wouldn't let him reach her . . . Just _what the hell was he supposed to do?!_

His rage spiked and he drove his elbow through the window with a loud roar. Sarah momentarily lost control of the vehicle, swerving from side to side until she was able to steady again. In the back, Derek only just managed not to go flying off the truck, keeping a strong hold on a hook jutting out from the top of the vehicle. He knocked angrily on the back window, which Sarah quickly slid open.

"You want _me_ to drive?" he asked irritated.

"Sun got in my eyes. Go back to keeping lookout." And she slid the window closed again, before Derek could say anything else.

John remained leaning against the door, staring at the road as it sped by under his gaze, ignoring his mother's constant glances that she hoped would provoke her son into speaking. But none worked, and soon she stopped trying to call his attention, focusing instead on thinking of a new place to hide. Breaking the side window did not break any bones, but the sharp glass had made a somewhat large cut above John's elbow. _"Great . . . That's gonna make a great scar."_

They drove in silence all through the day and part of the night. Once or twice it seemed as if someone was following them, but always a moment after they noticed, they were alone again. Nevertheless, Derek never removed his finger from the shotgun's trigger, and neither did John from the nine-millimeter.

But eventually, a weariness began to set upon them all, signaling the nearing of the twenty-four hour period of being awake; something that none of them in particular were dealing very well with. Sarah became more and more erratic, randomly switching between lanes and roads, never feeling quite safe in one or the other. This, in turn, seemed to be a kind of alarm of danger for Derek, who kept aiming the shotgun at any passing headlights that hadn't been there the second before. John, though being the only one to fall asleep several times, kept waking up with a start, very nearly shooting at the windshield every time. The same dream involving Cameron plagued him almost as soon as he closed his eyes. He would be running down a deserted street one minute, panic surging through his veins, only to be replaced by relief and a smile when he turned the corner. There she was . . . Safe from harm . . . Totally okay . . . She was walking toward him, the corners of her lips slowly raising upward to match his own expression . . .

And then a gigantic silver blade would burst through her stomach -- and as the sharp object raised her limp body from the ground, the only too-familiar face of the liquid metal monster would become visible behind her dangling limbs . . . It would then take notice of John, momentarily studying the expression of unimaginable horror on his face before swinging its arm to the side, sending Cameron's lifeless body flying through the air . . .

"WATCH OUT!" Derek screamed. Sarah stepped on the gas, barely managing to avoid a hit on the side by a S.W.A.T. van. Derek unleashed a barrage of shotgun blasts at the pursuing headlights, desperately trying to hit a wheel, or the driver -- anything. "JOHN!"

But the future leader of mankind was already a step ahead -- he sat on where the window he'd broken should have been and aimed directly at the oncoming headlights, his hair flowing freely in the wild wind, murder written all over his eyes . . .

He emptied the entire clip, hearing each individual shot fire as if in slow-motion, accompanied by the slower rhythmic sound of shotgun blasts.

"MAGAZINE!" he yelled once he was out. In one quick, fluid movement, Sarah reached into the bag, pulling out a fresh clip. It took John a full two seconds to reload, by which time the S.W.A.T. van rammed them hard. Lightning fast, Sarah reached for her son's leg, barely managing to keep hold as John dangled from the vehicle, the nine-millimeter lost to the road. The sudden jerk caused her to steer the wheel to the right, throwing Derek to the left, who had been reloading the shotgun. The shells spilled from his grasp, flying about the pickup. He heard Sarah's desperate yell and immediately smashed open the back window, reaching in to grab hold of John while Sarah tried to regain control.

She raced the truck past a line of vehicles, cutting into their lane to use them as a moving wall. But to little effect -- the Terminator plowed through them with its much heavier vehicle, sweeping them aside like balloons.

With a massive effort, John bent himself back inside, just seconds before they were rammed again and sent swerving into a car to their right. The collision shattered part of the windshield, spilling sharp crystals into the trucks occupants. One of them sliced John's face, drawing a straight line of blood. A few pieces did the same to Sarah's right arm. Derek pulled out, shutting closed the shotgun and firing what few shots he had managed to fill it with.

John opened up the leather bag full of weapons as far as it would go, looking for something powerful enough to even the odds -- he spotted the assault rifle his mother had dismantled and quickly pulled it out, arming it again to the best of his ability. He aimed it through the broken window, his hand shaking on the handle. "GET DOWN!" he yelled at his uncle. Derek immediately flattened himself against the pickup, groping for any scattered shells he could find. John switched the rifle to automatic and took direct aim at the van's driver's seat, viciously pulling back on the trigger. The bullets zoomed right through its windshield, not so much as cracking it, with sparks flying from every hit; two of them took out the headlights as the rifle's power messed up John's aim --

The Terminator finally seemed to lose some control, ramming into the freeway rail as John continued to rain bullets on it. Derek sat up, cocked the shotgun and with a single shot blew out one of the front tires. The crippled van "tripped" on the blown-out wheel and rolled across the lanes, crushing one of the cars that failed to move away in time. More sparks flew and seconds later it was enveloped in a massive explosion that cratered the freeway.

John fell back on his seat, letting out a sigh of relief, but painfully taking note of the fact that the Terminator had caught up with them. Cameron hadn't been able to stop it. . . .

"We need a new vehicle," said his mother.

"I don't think we're done quite yet!"

John turned his head and followed his uncle's eyes. He squinted, trying to see past the faraway smoke . . . What was Derek talking about? There was nothing there . . .

And then a semitrailer suddenly shot out from the flames, pushing in front of it the shell of what was left of the burning S.W.A.T. van.

"Mom -- if you've got some kind of secret weapon somewhere, right now would be a great time to tell us."

"Forget that," argued Derek. "There's a highway up ahead, take it first chance you get. We'll lose it there."

"Just how many are there?" asked John, almost in a whisper.

"I don't know," replied his mother. "But there's about to be one less."

The S.W.A.T. shell flew off to the side as the semitrailer got ever closer. Sarah took the first on-ramp to the highway she found, putting as many cars behind her as showed up. But again, to the same result as before.

"Is the rifle out?"

John showed the empty weapon to his mother, who swore loudly. "Gonna have to outrun it then." The truck's engine roared as Sarah stepped on the gas, the angry honks of drivers all around surrounding them.

The semitrailer suddenly jutted forward, almost driving over the cement railing. It crashed against a minivan in the way, sending it toppling over the edge. The Terminator did not seem entirely sure of what to do, swerving from one side to the other in a desperate attempt to drive in a straight line. But it was moving too fast, every slight turn of the wheel almost sending him barreling off the highway and onto the ground below. It jutted forward again, this time more violently and with greater effect. The front turned, but its haul didn't, forcing it into an "L" shape that tripped it up, making it stand almost vertically as it toppled over the edge. It crumpled below where it was bombarded by drivers unable to stop in time.

John and Derek watched in amazement, mingled with apprehension, at the second semitrailer now chasing after them. Derek aimed the shotgun at it, not entirely aware that he had no shells left.

"Wait!" John yelled at him, squeezing his shoulder for emphasis. He could not quite see past the glare of the headlights . . .

"What's going on back there? What happened?" demanded Sarah, glancing at the rear-view mirror.

"IT'S CAMERON!" screamed John.

But even before he could relish the overwhelming relief -- savor the knowledge that his Terminatrix protector was safe -- the same thing she'd done to the other Terminator, yet a _third_ Terminator seemed to be doing to her. The semitrailer she drove jutted forward, though she seemed prepared for it, as all that happened was she picked up speed. But the sun was slowly rising, and John saw the 'panicked' turnings of her head as she tried to get her assailant in view. Sarah switched lanes, managing to get to higher ground -- John almost half-leaped out to where Derek was, trying to keep Cameron in view. He wasn't going to lose her again. He pulled back inside and rapidly rummaged through the leather bag, desperately trying to find something -- anything. But there were only handguns and a couple of grenades . . .

The highway suddenly went down and John looked around to see where Cameron was. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her vehicle break past the edge of the highway and go falling to the freeway below. Falling . . . falling . . . It seemed to take forever . . . and then it went back into the sky in a giant fireball.

"**NO! **_**CAMERON!**_**"**

A bullet whizzed past him and his mother pulled him back inside.

"DON'T LOSE YOUR HEAD! WE'RE STILL IN THIS! Derek, see if you can get a grenade through that thing's window once it's back behind us."

Derek quickly retrieved the grenades, along with a handgun. They reached ground level again and not one minute later, the third Terminator was right behind them. Derek aimed the gun at its windshield and shattered part of it. He brought up a grenade and readied to pull the pin --

Suddenly, a woman in a motorcycle sped in front of the semitrailer, aiming back at it over her shoulder with a grenade launcher. She pulled the trigger and blew out the engine, sending the driver's compartment flying in flames. She sped up again, driving level with the truck once she was next to John's window. She pulled up her visor --

"You have to come with me, John."

She's possibly dead, then she's not, then her vehicle explodes, then she's alive and riding a motorcycle -- all the swinging emotions were starting to make him sick. But she was alive -- she was alive.

"What happened to the T-1000?" was his first question. He had failed not to take notice of the horizontal cut across Cameron's cheek.

"I couldn't destroy it, but it should take him awhile to catch up."

"Where are all these other ones coming from?!" yelled Sarah.

"I don't know," replied Cameron. "It doesn't seem like a very safe tactic to use. This many Terminators operating on one mission have as much potential of preventing Skynet's creation as much as we do." She looked back at John. "You have to come with me. None of them are after Sarah or Derek. You're the only target."

"We are _not_ splitting up and leaving him unprotected," Derek stated harshly, popping his head inside the truck.

"You're liabilities. If you stay together and something happens, John will put his own life in danger to save your own. You are not targets. If you split up, your lives will be at no risk and John's odds of survival will increase. You know this."

"Mom -- Derek," cut across John, before either of the two could say anything. "She's right. It's safer this way."

"How do you even know they're only after John?" asked Sarah, almost frantically.

"They're always after John."

They were going slower now, the sounds of destruction being left behind. Sarah and Derek exchanged a quick look that said, "I don't think we have much choice." The prospect of separating wasn't falling particularly well on anyone. They pulled over further up the road into the parking lot of a small diner where John, Sarah and Derek exchanged hugs of goodbye. Cameron got more of an "I guess you're not so bad" look from Sarah, but it was something. Derek handed John one of the handguns that was left. "Make them count."

Sharing one final look, John put on a helmet and got on the motorcycle, clasping his hands together around Cameron's waist. "Goodbye," he said in an almost chocked voice. A few seconds passed, and the two were gone. And there was silence.

"I still don't think we should have done that."

Without reply, Sarah headed for a nearby car..

"Where are you going?"

"Just because I can't go with my son to protect him, doesn't mean I have to stand around doing nothing. I'm gonna find out what the hell is going on." She drove her elbow through the driver's side of a vista and unlocked the door. "Are you coming?" she snapped to an unresponsive Derek.

"Yeah," was all he said.

As they drove away, a man stepped out from inside the diner, making straight for a sleek black car parked close to the side of the road. A large beard and sunglasses obscured his face. As he sat down, the sleeve of his jacket rode up, momentarily flashing the skin on his right forearm. A bar code was burned into it.

**A/N: Sorry that it's rushed at the end there. I really just wanted to finish this part before I never did. Also, I delete all the stories I make that don't get a good amount of reviews, and it's really not looking too good for this one. Though, I may just keep it as a memento of my first attempt at a Terminator fic. :)**


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